


Some Of Us Are Looking At The Stars

by mon_dieu



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Café Musain, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, One Shot, Politics, Pre-Revolution, Short One Shot, Worried Grantaire, addition, death mention, enjoltaire - Freeform, exr - Freeform, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 03:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12974979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mon_dieu/pseuds/mon_dieu
Summary: The revolution is brewing, and the usually unbothered cynic is struggling internally. His lover is willing to throw caution to the wind and do anything to accomplish his goal, but Grantaire worries for his lover's fate.---I watched the stage production of Les Misérables in Oslo yesterday, where Enjoltaire is canon, and I was inspired. This is a random one shot I wrote on the train home, set where they can practically feel the revolution coming.





	Some Of Us Are Looking At The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Word count: 1811  
> This is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

Grantaire sat down at his regular table at The Musain. Bahorel sat next to him, giving him a nod. Enjolras was going to speak today, perhaps in the relation to the dwindling health of General Lamarque, which would enact his plan to start a revolution with the people of Paris. Enjolras was the man he loved, a shining, brilliant statue that served as a symbol of justice and sacrifice. Enjolras was also a softer man who believed in the goodness of people at the root of his being, and had spoken many a time about the injustices made against the people of France. How all he wanted was to grow old in a country where the lottery of birth didn’t decide your fate.

Grantaire had heard that story many times before they went to bed together, and he was growing more worried by the minute. He had always been a sceptic to the revolution, struggling to believe that real change could come. One thing was for sure though; he may not believe in revolution as a tool like his lover, but he believed in Enjolras, and that he could accomplish anything he put his mind to. This was the root of his fear, that Enjolras’ intense passion and determination would steer him in the direction of his grave. That wonderful man who had allowed him to know every part of him, in those alone intimate moments, will one day perish. He just hoped that day was in the far away future, but the voice in the back of his head said otherwise. His lover was a ruthless fiend in his determination, and that trait of his had a tendency to overpower his other qualities.

 

Enjolras walked over, took his hand and sat down with him for a moment. He leaned his head on Grantaire’s shoulder, and caressed the back of his hand with his thumb.

“What is going on with you? You look more worried than usual, R.” Enjolras’ soft voice was barely more than a whisper, but Grantaire heard every word. He wanted to tell him the truth, that he selfishly wished that bastard General Lamarque could live forever so he could not become a catalyst for their revolution. That he wished Enjolras would not fight should the rebellion ignite like a flame, but he knew Enjolras would never agree to it.

“I missed you last night, that is all.” It was so simple, deliver a pretty lie in lieu of the truth. He could practically feel his lover’s smile. Why couldn’t things stay like they were?

“I must apologize then, every day for the last fortnight has been busier and busier. The people are losing hope, and General Lamarque’s condition is worsening. He has been a symbol for the people, and who will stand up for them if he dies?” Enjolras spoke calmly, but it was clear the situation was bothering him. Grantaire sighed, because he knew exactly who would easily accept the responsibility of the people’s man and who would fight for them. Enjolras kissed his hand, and they shared a loving look.

 

Enjolras rose from his seat, and Grantaire’s hand lingered in the air in the place his lover held it just a moment before. He let his hand fall down, and took a swig of his bottle. Who could blame him? Enjolras was just born with a sense of justice and the strength and privilege to fight for it. He knew one thing though, he would not let him fight this battle alone. He may not believe the victory is possible, but he would fight for Enjolras’ ideas, whatever the cost, even if it was his own life.

“As you all know, General Lamarque is fighting a battle against illness, and if the man of the people perish, so may their hope for a better future. We must recruit as many people as possible to our cause, and establish contact with the other revolutionary groups of Paris.” Enjolras continued speaking, but Grantaire zoned out. He had not slept for two nights out of worry, and Enjolras seemed more afire with the prospect of revolution than he had seen him ever before. It was like the hope had lit a fire in his soul, and it was about to consume him. Grantaire put his head in his hands for a moment, ignoring the meeting. Before he had the strength to yell out snarky comments, and tease the leader for his ideas of changing the world. Recently those ideas had manifested in reality, and it wasn’t a joke anymore.

It said something when the resident cynic couldn’t even joke about the dire situation around them. Enjolras had noticed, but would rather address the problem in private, as he wasn’t sure if Grantaire would tell him the truth amongst a crowd. Grantaire looked over at Éponine, who was sitting at the bar, listening intently. Éponine had been her own brand of cynical for as long as Grantaire had known her, but even she was listening intently. She had to wish for a better future, as besides her friends she had no one. Éponine had been welcomed into the makeshift family that met here at The Musain, but he knew she longed for more than that in life.

He looked at Marius, perhaps the strangest amongst their crowd. He hadn’t been counted as a member for a long time, but he continued showing up, so in the end he was accepted by default. This was the man Éponine told him she fancied, this tall noodle of a man who was the exact opposite of her family. Loving and gentle, and with a good set of morals. Grantaire wasn’t sure if it was true love, or if she had just been fascinated, as he was so different from the people who had lived their entire lives in poverty.

 

He looked at Jehan, a true boheme who had a love for plants, poetry and somehow had managed to convince a member from Thénardier’s band of thieves to come to their meetings. They always sat together, or stood next to one another at meetings, although Grantaire couldn’t for the life of him figure out how that happened.

There was the trifecta of Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta who were almost always seen with one another. Grantaire once saw Joly alone when they were the first to arrive for a meeting, it was a strange sight. As if he was not whole without his two counterparts.

Les Amis de l’ABC, as they called themselves, had many members, so many of his friends, united in a common interest to better the world. They were a merry band of outcasts, and the cynic had grown very fond of them all. Grantaire’s fears did not remain with simply his lover, but all the friends he met here. He had friends before, from boxing and ballet, and his other hobbies, but they had become his best friends. He wondered if they were all headed for a mutual annihilation.

 

Grantaire finished his drink at about the same time as Enjolras finished his speech. They discussed a few other matters – those of the less fatal kind – for a while until it was time to end the meeting. The members had other plans for the rest of that fateful summer night, but Grantaire stayed behind, helping the workers clean up. He might as well. Enjolras bid the others farewell, and walked over to his worried lover, hugging him from behind.

“While I believe there might be some truth to the answer you gave me before, I don’t know if I believe that is the real reason. What is really going on in that head of yours?” Enjolras asked, the worry evident in his voice. Grantaire turned around to face his lover.

“I am scared. This rebellion you’re planning is not child’s play. I know you won’t listen to me, but ideally I would want you as far away from soldiers and weapons and gunfire as possible.” Grantaire admitted, looking at the floor.

 

“I am aware it is dangerous, but if we don’t stand up, who will? The upper classes don’t care about the people, the police don’t. People are dying on the streets, it shouldn’t be like that.” Enjolras said, attempting an explanation.

“I know. That is the exact reason I’m not running. I am scared for you, every time I can’t see you, alive and breathing. Loving you comes with that worry, that fear, but I know I could never tell you not to fight. It’s in your nature to fight for others.” Grantaire stopped, as he moved a lock of curly, golden hair away from his lover’s face.  “It is akin to a tragedy one might watch at the theatre. To fall in love with the people’s savior, who would perish if he had to for the lives of others.”

 

Enjolras’ eyes looked sad, he knew every word Grantaire had spoken was true. He would gladly become a martyr to salvage the rights of the people, but he could imagine how painful that knowledge was to his lover. Enjolras used his hand to trace the contours of Grantaire’s face. His career in boxing had maimed his face, and his skin was often dried out due to the excessive drinking. Enjolras wished he would be more careful with himself, as he loved the other beyond reason, but he knew he would be a hypocrite to speak on the matter.

“I am sorry I am putting you through this emotional turmoil. I’ll take the night off, and tomorrow we can talk more about what the future might hold. For tonight, let us be alive. Would you permit that?”

Enjolras was aware he was only distracting them from the core problem, but he couldn’t help it. He was afraid too, of losing the people he loved, of losing anyone who was willing to fight for the cause, and most of all he was afraid of losing Grantaire. If he would somehow die after following Enjolras, and Enjolras had to live as punishment for starting this rebellion, he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to stay alive. It would have been as if the stars had been erased from the sky, and all you saw was complete darkness. His sense of justice and duty overpowered his fear, which caused the dilemma.

 

“Yes, let us go home. Let us prove that we are alive for another night, this precious night in which the sky still contains stars.” Grantaire knew as well as Enjolras as they were distracting themselves from the future they both feared, but why not. If tomorrow must arrive, why not enjoy the night before? When you were in love with a man insistent on changing the world, all you could do was hold on tight and pray for the best.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? If you find any typos or have any complaints about how I write the characters, please tell me. I live for comments, constructive criticism especially ^^
> 
> Love you lots ♥


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